


me siento en las nubes

by notapepper



Series: We Like Short Shorts [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cloud Watching, F/M, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/pseuds/notapepper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FitzSimmons do a bit of cloud gazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	me siento en las nubes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memorizingthedigitsofpi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/gifts).



> Yet another short fic written for [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/post/125861975067) based on her [gorgeous photo manip](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/post/125949998302). So she is not only a rad ficker and grossly talented at making pictures, apparently she is also my enabler?  
>   
> And, everyone who saw this manip (including me) immediately thought -- stargazing! So of _course_ I had to be difficult about it.  
>  :-D

 

 _But for now we are young; let us lay in the sun, and count every beautiful thing we can see._  

 

 

* * *

 

Jemma lay on her back in the grass, staring up into the gorgeous afternoon sky.  Behind her, she heard the damp rustle of feet on the lawn and made an educated guess about their owner from the sound of the tread.  She tipped her head back to peer upside-down at the approaching figure and was greeted by a pair of familiar old trainers.

“Breeze is pickin’ up,” Fitz offered, looking down at her, his smiling face backlit by the sun—though not enough to miss the way his glance flickered over her legs—and held up a dark lump that tumbled out over his fist.  “Thought you’d want your cardi.”

“Oh, thanks!”  She sat up and tugged it on while Fitz stretched himself out in the grass beside her, crossing his arms behind his head and his legs at the ankle.

“It _is_ rather windy,” she noted, scooting in closer with only a passing thought for the risk of grass stains on her white sundress.  She dropped her own head down to rest on the inside of his elbow, the picture of innocence when he twisted his face toward her in surprise.  He recovered quickly, shifting his hand to curl around her hair as the other raised toward the puff-dotted blue.

“See, now that’s just unfair,” he groused, waving at a formless blob of white.  “That is _clearly_ a macaque.  Even the heavens mock me for not havin’ a monkey.”

“They’ll be mocking you for some time yet,” she teased.  “The only monkey _I_ want in our lab is in a research capacity.”

“That’s what I’m _suggesting_ , Jemma!” he patronized.  “A monkey to help us _conduct research_!  Like an intern!”

“True,” she mused.  “Some of our interns _have_ been a bit ape-like, haven’t they?”  

The peripheral-vision of Fitz’s face so close to her own, the tickle of his hand toying through her hair, it all set off a series of happy trapeze jumps in her stomach.  Soon, her cheeks were bursting with a smile so light it threatened to float off her face and rise into the very clouds above them.  

“Ooh, that’s a nice one!”  She pointed.  “It could almost be… what does that look like to you?”

He hummed his indecision.  “Hippopotamus?”

“No…” she corrected immediately.  “It’s definitely bovine.”

“It’s a _cloud_.”

“You don’t say.”  She let her hand fall, chiding, against his side.  Honestly, he’d _started_ this bit of whimsy; she was hardly going to let him get away with that smug _it’s-a-cloud_ business.  “If you’d prefer to be literal, I _could_ comment on the height of that _lovely_ stratocumulus formation over there.”  She bit down a grin, craning her head to try and catch his expression.  “What do you say, Fitz?  Shall we discuss the weather?”

“Sorry.”  She could hear the amusement in his chest.  “What was I thinking; it’s clearly a cow.”

She was suddenly reminded of a mutual acquaintance of theirs, a teaching assistant who fancied himself a philosopher.

“So perhaps Humberto was right all along?”  She giggled, affecting their co-worker’s accent.  “ _There is cows in the Earth, in the sky, even space is full of cows._ ”

“God,” Fitz groaned, dropping his hand to cover his face.  “The sheer number of weeks it took me to realize he was saying _chaos—_ I'm ashamed to call myself a genius.”

“Fair point.  I’ll have them come and revoke your PhD straightaway.”

She squeaked at the sudden tug on a lock of her hair.  

“Don’t even joke about that,” he grumbled playfully.

“Aww, Fitz” she tutted.  “You could always take one of mine if you’re desperate.”

“ _You_ —” he began, incensed, before his tone shifted into begrudging appraisal, “probably _would_ have extra doctorates lyin’ about.”  He chuckled. “And more in the cupboard.”

“Of course!  What else am I to write my grocery lists on?”

He was silent a while, the hand tangled in her hair stroking idly against her scalp.  She closed her eyes, sinking into the sound of his breath, and rolled her head to fit snugly over his shoulder.  His fingers halted their quiet path, not half a moment before the soft press of his lips landed carefully on her forehead.

If Jemma weren’t certain of the biological impossibility, she would have sworn her heart had stopped.  Not because the gesture itself was so extraordinary; they were best friends.  Best friends could kiss each other on the forehead, she was well aware.  But the deliberate fragility of each movement had shrunk the world to their small patch of grass, and even the infinite blue above them couldn’t break the confines.  

She took it as her cue to wiggle in even closer, nose brushing against his Adam’s apple, torso flush against his side.  She could feel his drumbeat heart inside his shirt, riffing a heavy anthem, so when his free hand captured hers, well—it was probably silly to be _proud_ of him, but so she was.

Then his thumb started to worship circles against her palm, teetering away the limbo of the last few minutes.  Jemma twisted, lifting herself up on her forearm to meet his eyes, and blinked.  If she thought she’d been facing the sky _before_ …

Was this what Pandora’s box looked like, just there at the end when the only thing filling it was hope?  Jemma smiled, and breathlessly leaned in.

-o-

It was impossible to know how much time passed before she began to notice the chill of encroaching evening.  Wrapped around Fitz, his lips chasing hers like an Old West pioneer with dreams of gold, she barely registered the copper-coral flames painting the horizon.  At least, until a particularly strong gust blew a dry leaf into Fitz’s ear.  She supposed she should be grateful he only let out a single yelp as he shook his hair wildly and pawed at the side of his head.  Jemma leaned back onto her elbows, waiting with arched eyebrows until the vanquished leaf was sitting powerless in his hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blushed, words coming like a steam train.  “Just ignore that.  We’re good.”  He ducked toward her in a pink-cheeked bid to keep snogging.

“Well, you get full marks for enthusiasm, but it’s nearly time for dinner.”  She stood, and this time Fitz’s gaze lingered on her legs and drank its fill.  “Enjoying the view?”

Fitz coughed and snapped his head forward to squint at the sunset.  “Yep.”

It _was_ majestic, she allowed.  “The clouds have thinned out, though.”

“Right,” he laughed, standing up himself and dusting off his jeans.  “I forgot we were meant to be cloud-watching.”

“That’s alright.”  Jemma slipped her arms around his neck one last time, sighing into the raspy softness of his mouth.  She didn't need to stare at clouds.

 

She was right up there with them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the top is from _In the Aeroplane Over the Sea_ by Neutral Milk Hotel.  
>  Title comes from _Mi Niña Bonita_ by Chino y Nacho.


End file.
